I Promise
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: When it’s your time to go, no one can save you. Not even a hero. Two chapters. Character death. Romance/Angst/Tragedy. Nick/Greg. Slash. Greg’s POV. Rated 'M' for minor coarse language.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **This was probably the hardest thing I've ever written in my life … xD

Two chapters. Character death. Romance/Angst/Tragedy. Nick/Greg. Slash. Greg's POV.

**Warning: **Character death. The language is also worse than what I've written before.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Nick or Greg. I wish I did, but ah well.

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks goes to Amanda, seeing as how she proofread my stuff for me. I also want to say thanks to her for recommending a few songs for me to listen to, seeing as how one of them gave me the idea for this song.

I want to give a **huge** thank you to Natasha (**Sara's Girl**) because she beta'd this story for me, and her advice and suggestions made it about ten times better than it originally was. Thanks again.

**Summary: **When it's your time to go, no one can save you. Not even a hero.

**I Promise**

_**Chapter One**_

"_No deed goes unchallenged, even if it has good intentions."_

Greg slipped his hand into Nick's, pulling him out of the darkened and almost empty theatre. They were the only couple on the street now, the only couple around, actually. There had been only two other people at the movie, and they had been whisked away by nervous parents as soon as it had ended.

Leisurely they strolled down the silent, calm street, past the closed stores and restaurants. It was peaceful, and Greg loved just being there with Nick. The fact that everyone else was at home sleeping soundly just made him appreciate Nick even more.

"So this was your first midnight movie, huh?" Greg asked, glancing at the slightly shorter man, his eyebrows raised in skepticism.

"Yeah, maybe," Nick relented, grinning at Greg.

"That's kind of sad, Nicky. We're gonna have to do this again, then."

"Yeah, I guess we could, on our next night off, maybe."

"Oh, but didn't we already schedule a date for that night?" Greg inquired, his eyes flashing mischievously as they passed under a flickering street lamp.

"What would you call this, I wonder?" Nick teased, chuckling to himself.

"Just a night on the town," Greg sighed, pulling Nick closer to him. The younger man smiled, completely at ease with the Texan.

"I love you, G," Nick told his boyfriend, stopping below a lit up McDonald's sign.

"I love you too, Nicky," Greg replied softly. Nick beamed at him, and then raised his lips to meet Greg's awaiting mouth.

After the passionately sweet kiss, Greg looked up pointedly at the sign. "Wow, way to be all romantic Nick. Were you thinking about me, or your stomach?"

Nick only rolled his eyes and continued on walking. They had taken the bus, and it would be back at the same bus stop around three. They had half an hour to get there, and right now that seemed like all the time in the world.

"Greg, this was a really great idea of yours," Nick murmured after a few minutes of tranquility.

"I do get them every so often, you know."

Nick stopped again, just staring up into Greg's eyes. The light breeze blew an empty Styrofoam cup along on the dusty street, the sound echoing in the stillness.

"But I really mean it, Greg. This … this was exactly what I needed. I don't want this night to end," the Texan told him, gently grasping both of Greg's hands. He then softly kissed each of the knuckles on the younger man's hands, causing Greg to emit a sigh.

"I don't want this night to end either, Nicky. But please, we're still in broad—"

"Moonlight?" Nick offered, dropping Greg's left hand, but still held on to his right hand as they continued on to their destination.

"Yeah, I guess. I just have a funny feeling about tonight, you know, like—"

"Shhh!" Nick hissed, stopping dead, dropping Greg's hand as if it was on fire. Nick's body went rigid, and Greg knew he was listening for something.

"What …?" Greg started, but then he too dropped his sentence. He had heard the sobbing, too.

Slowly the CSI Level One turned on his heel, peering into the gloom and shadows of an alley. A sense of foreboding emanated from it, and he knew they shouldn't enter, that they should just call the police—

"Nick, what the fuck are you doing?" Greg yelped, trying to be quiet, but he couldn't help it. Nick had started to walk towards the alley. "_Nick_!"

"Someone needs help," Nick told him, cautiously entering the alley, but before he had gotten even a few steps in, Greg was grasping his sleeve, his hand almost like a claw as he dragged the Texan back.

"Nick! What do you think you're doing? This isn't a game! Please, can't we let the—the police deal with it? Please?" Greg asked almost breathlessly, his heart pumping, fear and anger at Nick's blindness to the situation flowing through his veins. "I'll call them, 'kay?"

Nick turned to gaze at Greg, and the younger man could see the torment in Nick's eyes.

"I know, Nicky. I know you want to save the world, but sometimes—sometimes you have to let the right people do it. Please?"

Nick nodded curtly, but he turned back towards the alley, still obviously trying to get a good look into the gloom. Greg took that as the sign that _he _should be the one who called nine-one-one.

A scream for help ripped apart the tense air. Within the blood-curdling shriek, Greg could hear the words: "Help me, please, someone!" It was a woman, and she seemed as if in huge amounts of panic and fear.

"NICK!" Greg shouted, trying to grab the other man's jacket, but Nick had already bolted down the alley. "FUCK!" Greg swore out loud, chasing after the man he loved. What the hell had happened to the calm and peace?

He didn't have to run far. After a right turn in the alley, Greg found Nick bent over an obviously pregnant woman who was leaning up against the side wall of a brick building. Light filtered in from a street lamp in the distance. Greg had run blindly down a short alley that ended in a dead end. A dumpster was against the wooden fence at the back, and a barred and locked door was right across from Nick's back.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you okay?" Greg heard Nick ask, his voice tense and nervous.

"He—there's a man, he—he attacked me, he isn't gone, he's coming back!" the woman screeched, her chest rising and falling quickly.

Nick threw an extremely worried glance at Greg before turning back to the woman.

"Ma'am, please stay with me here. I'm a police officer, and I won't let anything happen to you, don't worry. Can you stand?" Greg rushed forwards to help as Nick pulled the heaving woman to her feet. The woman's makeup was extremely smudged, her mouth trembling.

"My—my husband, he … he doesn't know where I am," she sniffled, throwing a glance around, her eyes terrified.

"Don't worry, ma'am. We have a cell phone here—" Greg withdrew it swiftly, showing it to her "—and we're going to call for help," Nick explained slowly, trying to soothe her.

"Drop the cell phone," a cruel, harsh voice from behind all three of them demanded.

Greg's mouth went completely dry; his heart rate skyrocketed as he gradually turned around to see who had spoken. It was a man, slightly taller than Greg, with scraggly, unkempt blonde hair, his face was unshaven, and he had the air of a man who had gone insane. But the one thing that drew Greg's attention most was the black pistol that was being pointed straight at Nick's heart.

Nick moved over to the left slightly, shielding the woman from the assailant's view.

"Drop it, Greg," Nick muttered, his lips barely moving. Realizing that he hadn't let go of the cell phone, Greg dropped it, his fingers numb with terror.

"Now, don't do anything you'll regret," Nick told the man, licking his lips. Greg knew that Nick was calculating inside his mind, but there was nothing that could save them. Nick didn't have his gun on him.

"Yeah? You think I'll regret this? Killing a son of a bitch cop, huh?" the man whispered, baring his dirty brown teeth.

"He isn't a cop," Greg said swiftly.

The gun switched to his own face, and Greg felt like throwing up. He could feel the popcorn and pop he had consumed churning in his stomach.

"Oh, so _now _he isn't a cop."

"He's a CSI. He just deals in evidence," Greg tried to explain further, but the words wouldn't come. His breathing had gone ragged now, and he wondered if he would pass out. Not once in his sheltered life had he stared down the barrel of gun.

"What the hell is a CSI?" the man asked, his hand not even shaking as he held the weapon, only two inches away from Greg's nose.

"It stands for Crime Scene Investigator," Nick told him, his voice steady, and oddly calming.

The gun switched targets again.

"Yeah, and after I'm done with you there will definitely be a scene to investigate," the gun-wielding man chuckled.

Greg's stomach just seemed to drop away. This guy wasn't afraid to shoot them, to kill them. _Wasn't afraid to destroy them._

"Think about what you're doing," Nick said, his voice still strong, still composed.

_Wasn't he even afraid?_

"Please," Greg added, his voice puny and weak against Nick's.

Once again Greg was gazing at the pistol, up close and personal. The man couldn't decide who he wanted to shoot, who he wanted to destroy.

"You know," the man drawled slowly, almost as if reading Greg's thoughts, "I could just kill both of you now, then take the lady for my own pleasures later."

The woman behind Nick let out a shrill shriek, and dropped to the garbage-strewn cement like a load of bricks, her body fell sideways and her shoulder slammed into the ground. Acting upon instinct, both Nick and Greg whirled around.

The gun went off with a blast. Once, twice, three times. Three times Greg's body shuddered and shook, his eyes streaming from the noise, his head pounding. He heard someone drop to the ground, and he vaguely wondered if he himself had plunged to the cement.

Greg opened his eyes as he heard the criminal run, his footsteps echoing in the now eerily silent alley. He felt no pain, so that must mean—

"NO!" Greg cried, lurching towards Nick. The Texan was on his knees, facing the brick wall. His hands were searching his chest, but there were no marks. Nick wobbled on his knees, finally falling towards the wall, letting Greg get a look at the damage. Three maroon splotches were already spreading all over the older man's back. Nick's coat was now completely soaked through with blood.

"NO! NICK!" Greg's voice echoed in his ears as he laid Nick down on his side, putting the Texan's familiar face into his shaking hands. He was kneeling in a puddle of his lover's blood, the warmth being absorbed into his jeans. "No, Nick, please, stay here, okay? I'll call for help, please don't—"

Nick only made a strangled noise in response. Greg lowered the Texan's face softly onto the ground, scrambling around for the cell phone. He rapidly dialed nine-one-one, his heart thudding erratically in his chest, his mind numb except for the intense fear that was present there.

"COME ON!" he bellowed in frustration, the tears flowing freely from his eyes, but Greg paid them no attention.

"Nine-one-one, what's your—"

"My friend's been shot three times in the back, and a pregnant woman's passed out. I think he's dying, please … please save him!" Greg sobbed, his vision blurring.

"Sir, what's your location?"

Greg ran a hand haphazardly through his disheveled hair, struggling to remember where they are. "Uh, South Sunterra Boulevard. We're just past the movie theatre, by the McDonalds. Please, you have to come soon!"

"The rescue personnel will be there momentarily, just please stay calm. Check if the pregnant woman is still breathing, then try to make your friend as comfortable as possible. Try to stop the bleeding with anything clean you have," the professional sounding woman on the other end told Greg.

After the instructions, he dropped the phone and raced towards the woman, his hands searching for a pulse. Within seconds, Greg felt the steady strumming of her heart. With that out of the way, the CSI Level One turned back towards the man lying in a pool of his own blood.

"Nicky, they'll be here soon. Please, just stay with me," Greg whispered, kneeling down beside Nick. He tried to see Nick's face, see his eyes, his lips, his nose, but he couldn't see past the veil of tears that had cloaked his vision. Bawling, Greg wrenched his own sweater off and pushed it up against Nick's back. The Texan let out a grunt of pain, and within mere seconds, the sweater was already drenched.

"Is … is she … okay?" Nick finally croaked, the words garbled and hard to understand.

"Yes, she's fine. You will be too, okay?"

"I—I'm sorry, Greg."

"No, no don't say that, don't apologize, this isn't over yet!"

Nick licked his lips, his mouth trembling. "Promise me you won't be sad forever. Promise … promise me you'll let go when you're ready …"

Greg bowed his head, the tears racing down the end of his nose and pooling onto Nick's jacket. "No Nick, you can't go like this! Please, stay with me!"

"Promise … me …"

Greg's hands were shaking as if he was in an earthquake. He knew he'd never be able to let go of Nick, not ever. Not while there was still life in the man he loved. Not while his best friend's heart was still beating. "I—I promise, but please Nick, stay with me—"

"Greg," Nick's breathing became labored, his own eyes misting over with tears, "I love you, and I'm sorry this … this is how it … it had to end." The Texan's chest shuddered, and his face went deathly pale.

"NO!" Greg screamed horribly, wiping his eyes frantically. "No, Nicky, this isn't the end, please, _this can't be the end_!"

Nick made no response, and even Greg could see that Nick's chest had stopped moving.

"Nick, no, please, stay here, stay with me Nicky, don't leave me all alone," Greg forced out, his fingers scrabbling for a pulse. He couldn't find one, but that didn't stop his searching. "Nick, no, please …" Greg's eyes were drawn towards Nick's open, vacant eyes, those eyes that used to be so full of energy, of love and warmth, but now … now they were empty. Devoid of life. Devoid of everything.

Greg let out a strangled howl, and threw himself down on top of Nick's unmoving form, sobs wracking his body, his mind filled with an excruciating pain.

One life hadn't just ended that night … another had been destroyed, too. Shattered, broken, obliterated, and decimated beyond anything that could be imagined.

In just one night, all Greg had left were his memories and a promise.


	2. Chapter Two

**I Promise**

_**Chapter Two**_

"_And sometimes all you're left with is a box marked 'Memories'."_

Greg sat down on the desolate queen mattress in his room, his gaze wandering around the empty and silent room. Everything had been packed up, including his posters, books and knick knacks. He had had enough of this apartment. It was time to move. Move from all the memories this place held.

It was five years since the night Nick had been wrenched away from him. Five years of waking up crying every single day, five years of praying solidly that this was just a dream. Five years of undying agony.

Sometimes Greg wished that he could die, too. Just to be with Nick. All of his friends said how lucky he was to be alive, but … but Greg knew in his heart that this was a lie. His heart was shattered, and his soul ripped apart.

Nick hadn't just died … the best part of Greg had, too.

Greg fought with himself about moving on, but in the end he never tried. Everyone could see that he was in so much pain, and he couldn't get out of it. He was drowning in it, being smothered by it.

Realizing that he had tears on his cheeks, Greg shook his head and stood. Enough was enough. Why couldn't he just let go?

He wiped away the moisture on his face, and went over to the walk-in closet. He might as well make sure the house was completely packed up before the movers got here. He hadn't used the walk in closet since he got a dresser a few years ago, but he might as well check anyways.

Greg poked his head in to the closet and flicked on the overhead light. At the far end of the small room, a decrepit cardboard box sat forgotten.

The man narrowed his eyes and quickly grabbed it. It was surprisingly heavy, and he hauled it out into the bright and sunny bedroom, dropping it gently on to the mattress.

_What was in here?_

Greg swiftly opened it, and he felt his breath leave him. Staring up at him was Nick's smiling face.

With trembling fingers, the man softly pulled the slightly faded picture out of the cluttered box, holding it up to the light. There was Nick, grinning eternally at him.

Greg let his eyes explore the picture, the scene becoming more familiar by the second. The background was a cliff, extremely steep and it led off into the sandy hills and valleys of the desert. The sky was a vibrant forget-me-not blue, and not a cloud could be seen. Nick was all geared up and ready to go paragliding, and he was just clipping his helmet on. Greg had been standing in front of him, and he had snapped the picture of his beaming boyfriend.

He could still remember seeing Nick run and take off, flying through the air and almost disappearing from view. Greg couldn't remember the excuse he had used for not going paraglidingwith the Texan, but now he wished that he had gone. He wished that he had been up for a lot of the sports that Nick loved, just to have been able to spend more time with the man he loved. And now it was too late.

Laying aside the picture, Greg peered hesitantly into the box. There was Nick's favorite coffee mug, all of his favorite bird books, and his old A&M hoodie.

Upon spying the clothing item, Greg withdrew it in a flash. He wrapped it around himself, pulling it tight. Somehow it had still had Nick's scent.

Greg let out a shuddering breath, his vision hazy due to the downpour of tears issuing from his eyes. His lips were trembling as he pressed the sweater to them.

"Nick …" Greg whispered, his whole world shaking.

Greg took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the box. Was there anything left?

Disappointment fell heavily on to Greg's shoulders when he saw that there were no more memories for him. The only thing left was a dirty and folded up piece of paper.

Greg sniffled and pulled it out. He unfolded it then delicately wiped his eyes with the hoodie.

On the front of the paper, in a script Greg had thought he would never see again, it was written:

'_Dear Greg . . .' _but the man couldn't read any further. Nick … Nick had written him something.

Greg hardened his resolve, praying that he had the strength to go on, and he continued to read:

'_You're probably wondering why I put all this stuff into a box and shoved it to the back of our closet. Well, to be honest, I don't even know myself. I just had a feeling you'd need these items one day, and if you've found it then I'm guessing I was right._

_It also makes me think that if you need these items then I guess I'm … dead, I suppose. As I wrote that, I paused, just wondering. Wondering how it would happen … wondering if you would be okay … wondering if it hurt. I know that, at times, I seem fearless, but I'm really not._

_You remember that one night we stayed awake, just talking about our fears? You remember how you said you were afraid of the dark, of heights and also a bit afraid of death?_

_You remember how I chuckled and said that death was nothing to be afraid of? I was just trying to make you feel better; I didn't actually believe it._

_Death … no one knows for sure, right? I mean, people have their own beliefs, but who really knows? I don't. I'm scared of that. And … I'm scared of leaving you. Death would rip us apart, and I guess if you're reading this then it's already happened. I've already been lost to you._

_I don't know what happens when you die, but I know I'll never forget you. I don't know if you can think when you're dead, but you'll always be in my thoughts. My heart may have stopped beating, but you'll still be in it. You're my soul, Greg, and my soul will never die._

_I made a vow to myself that I would tell you to get over me someday. I sincerely hope you do. No one deserves to be sad forever. Especially not you._

_You were the best thing to enter my life, G. I know you get down on yourself a lot, but your imperfections make you perfect, Greg. You're beautiful inside and out. You make so many people happy. I'm sure everyone else wants you to be happy, too, and I know you want to be happy as well._

_I don't want to sound egotistical, but you are probably wondering how you are supposed to get over me. How are you going to let me go … and I don't have the answer._

_I'm thinking that by the time you read this, some time has passed since I've been … gone. I'm hoping that this time has helped to heal your wounds. And if not, then … I don't know what to say, G._

_I can't tell you to just forget about me. If it were me in your position, I'd never be able to forget about you. I can't tell you to just let me go, either. I'm not you, and I don't know exactly how you're feeling. I can't even imagine how you're feeling._

_I just want you to know, Greg, that I love you. I'll always love you, and I'll continue loving you forever. I may not be with you physically, but I'll always be with you in your heart._

_I love you, Greg, and I always will._

_Love, Nick.  
June 24_

The letter Nick had written to Greg was now almost completely damp with falling tears. Greg couldn't even think. He couldn't feel anything; the whole world seemed fuzzy, not real, an illusion.

Once again, Greg prayed that this was just a dream. That he would wake up and find Nick right beside him, sleeping peacefully.

Once again, he was forced to deal with the harsh reality of life.

The harsh reality was that Nick was dead. Nick was never going to come back to him. He had gone on, and left Greg here. Even God couldn't do anything about this now.

Greg finally gave in to the sobs that were clutching at his heart and he buried his face into the sweater, his body shaking with pent up grief and anguish. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, the tears still coming.

His mind floated back to the night when Nick had been shot. It had been one month after Nick had written the letter and packed it up into the box. Greg didn't even bother wondering at this. The images were flashing through his mind, bits and pieces from the night passing through his mind.

The movie they had gone to see … kissing under the McDonalds sign …the pregnant woman up against the wall … the gun being pointed straight at Nick … the eardrum shattering sound of the pistol going off … Nick lying there on the pavement, his jacket soaked through with blood.

In his ears, Greg could hear the promise Nick had made him say:

"_Promise me you won't be sad forever. Promise … promise me you'll let go when you're _

_ready …"_

"_No Nick, you can't go like this! Please, stay with me!"_

"_Promise … me …"_

"_I—I promise . . ."_

Without realizing, Greg had stopped crying. The tears had stopped flowing, and his breathing had returned to normal. He sat up and dried his eyes off with his sleeve, still clutching the wet hoodie.

Greg couldn't let go of Nick yet because he hadn't really accepted the Texan's death. Every night he always hoped that Nick would walk through the front door, and apologize to Greg for scaring him like that.

But who _was_ ready to let go of the one person they had truly loved—their soul mate?

"No one," Greg mumbled to himself, staring at the photo on the bed, at the forever happy and cheerful face of Nick. "But I promised. I promised … and—and I have to try."

Greg picked up the picture again, gazing at Nick's unmoving eyes. "I'm going to have to let you go, Nicky. It's what you wanted, but I don't know if I can do it—" Greg stopped, his mouth trembling violently.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy. He knew he would still wake up sobbing for a long time, but maybe things would get better with time.

"I promised you, Nick, and I—I'm going to try. I promised you, and I won't break that," Greg whispered, his eyes tearing up again. "I promised. And right now I'll promise this, too. I'll always love you, Nick. And one day we'll meet each other again. And I won't be scared when I'm dying, 'cause I know you'll be right there holding my hand. But I won't live my life just waiting to die. I'll try to live a happy life, 'cause I know that's what you wanted for me, Nicky. I promise."

Taking a deep breath, Greg gently put the picture back into the box, along with the books and the letter. He did not, however, put the hoodie back in. He pulled off his own sweater and put on the A&M hoodie instead.

Just as he finished putting the box by the front door, the doorbell rang. He opened it and greeted the movers with a warm smile.

It was time to move on.


End file.
